First real story, with proper chapters!

Please review, I want to see what you guys think before I continue to upload more!

It's quite different from other stories on here, but please give it a chance! xx

White.

That's all he sees.

Everybody has some strange obsession that when you die, all you see is darkness, maybe a light at the end of a tunnel. But when the poison takes hold, or the blood keeps running or the pain gets too much, you close your eyes and instead of seeing darkness.

All you see is white…

And when he wakes up, all he sees is white, but it's for a different reason this time. He's in a white room, white walls, white chair, white floor, and a white face that peers around the room almost bored at the repetition. He feels that he's lived his life to the fullest it could be, done everything, heard everything, and seen everything. Because things have changed, hundreds of years on from the fateful nights of clubs and neon clothing under lights, smoking, drinking and taking drugs being the absolute extremes.

Sex being the absolute pleasure…

But everything gets boring after a while.

The silvery cuffs encasing his arms and legs (they're not just single bars, they know well enough that this would not hold him) to the chair, a head helmet trapping his head, only small slit iron bars for his mouth and little holes for his eyes.

Because they've altered him…

Because he's different…

Every person all over the world knows his name... He's used in presidential campaigns, strikes, slogans, advertising, as a swear word, as entertainment, in rhymes, poems, stories. He is everywhere, even in little children's nightmares and rhymes that say if you say his name 3 times, he will appear in your bedroom and kill you.

And he's not a superstitious guy, well; he's not really a guy because he hasn't considered himself human for a long time. And it's not he who has changed himself.

No.

It's not he who has changed.

He seethes with anger, blood filling his mouth as he retraces his hundreds of year old memory. Like rebooting it, because the stale bitter taste of chemicals still infiltrate his mouth as his weariness falls away and he's whipping his head around the familiar room because they did it to them, everyone in the world. He is the bad one, the evil villain, and the one to be hated and despised with all your being.

From when you are born you are grown up to hate him like no other, to be frightened shitless when thinking about him. Some daredevils come and watch their game play out. He's just a student of the game that they taught him; rocking at every stage at every place they brought him. And he stares at the tubes and needles pricking his body, weaving into huge machines built into the wall. And he breathes heavy through the huge bear cage like mask surrounding his face. His bare feet are cold on the tiled floor; the old blood spatters covering the room. And the only blood that's there is his, even though he has the blood of thousands on his hands…

Because he's Nathan… Enemy of all humankind...

He lets out an inhumane cry that echoes through the building, rattling windows near the entrance, and frightening birds away. He pulls at his restraints, crying out almost emotionally, though he has no emotions, he thinks bitterly, because he is merely an object of their games.

He stills and hangs his hand, soft curls of hair winding their way out of the metal cage, the metal razors arching out of the inside of the cage stuck up into his gum, built in such away that blood hardly seeps out. And everything has changed here, almost 1000 years on. His mind wanders.

And for the first time in maybe 20 years he thinks of his old life.

He thinks of Kelly.

His chest constricts and he cries out, hot salty tears seeping down his face, one escaping and dripping out of the small metal bars near his mouth, the blood stained on the mask being soaked up by the passing tear. His wails and rattling body against the chains attract the attention of his guard.

His guard.

The worst job in the world apparently, but you are hailed as a hero for being so brave. A man, around mid twenties struts out, and shouts at the other guards reading pornos and smoking and laughing on tipping chairs to disperse. The others flee immediately, one even tipping back on the chair too far that he smashed down on the ground and crawls out the room when they know he's awake.

Awake, huh. He thought you had to be asleep to 'wake up'. Does being dead count?

Once the door on the other side of his huge locked iron case (with no windows, the heartless bastards) was slammed and unlocked again, and again, and again, and again (with a couple more doors slammed over that one, and more locks… well you get the picture), he heard his own door start to be unlocked. A couple of locks later, the first door is swung open and he hears the light footsteps approaching him. They suddenly skid around as a small chuckle emits from his mouth,

'Wouldn't want to forget to lock the door, now would we Nate'

He growled, eyes squeezed shut, his whole body plastered against the chair, the only movement possible is the wriggling of his toes or the hanging of his head. He feels nimble fingers unlock all the locks and the back of his head, and he winces when one of the stubborn locks jars open suddenly, ripping part of his gum. The guard gently eases the bear trap off, taking each of the razor sharp fang like metal bars out of my gums and he tosses it on the ground with a large clunk. Nate breathes in desperately, his eyes raving around the room and finally up at the guard.

'Your new' He mumbles, blood creeping slowly down his chin.

'Nah, you know me. You know my whole family in fact' The young man grins, he's around 26 or so, he looks older than Nathan himself but in fact he was more than 900 years older. 'I'm Redmond'

'Ah,' Nathan sighs, remembering the same wide eyed boy gasp and run away and cry and throw up in front of him with his daddy clutching his arm. In this exact room.

'Where's Stephen?' Nathan asks, referring to his old guard, from the last time he died, the one he watched his dying eyes as he passed away from a new drug.

'Dad's dead', the boy hangs his head. Nathan merely grunts. They're all the same to him. His 'guard' runs in the family. This means he's had the same blood line being his guard for almost 500 years. So in simpler terms, Redmond, or whatever his name is, is next in line. His son will be next, and the son after that.

They all look the same, he muses, looking at the blond wispy hair, knowing he will bald around his mid 40's and grow a pot belly in his 60's and lose his teeth in his mid 70's.

If you're not dead by then though…

Guards are often killed in protest. But they always manage to have a son before they die, the fucking rabbit whores. Not that he hates the guards. They're the only people who are nice to him in the whole world. The only people who understand him, so he tries not to kill them.

'So…' the man coughs as he unlocks the bars encasing him, 'Want to play Go Fish?'

Hate it? Love it? (Hope so!)

I know it's a really different approach, but the story gets better (I think)

And yes, the bear trap mask is from Saw, I just thought it was a good idea :D

If you have any questions, PM me or write a review (PLEASE)

But it will probably explain itself later in the story. xx